Tag Archives: parenting

Unexplained Mysteries of My Universe

15 May
  • The closer I get to menopause → the angrier I get → the more I pluck my eyebrows → the angrier I look → the angrier I feel → the more I pluck my eyebrows → the more I resemble Uncle Leo from Seinfeld.
Good god, these hot flashes are a bitch!

Good god, these hot flashes are a bitch!

  • The older I get → the more chin hairs I get → the worse my vision gets → the less chance I have of spotting stray chin hairs → the better chance I have at landing the coveted Bearded Lady position at the local circus → the circus never comes to my town.
  • The later I am for an appointment → the tinier the toy my daughter wants me to find → the bigger the pile of crap it’s buried in.

    But Mom! I need Polly's purple shoe right now or I'll JUST DIE! WAAAAHH!

    But Mom! I really REALLY need Polly’s purple shoe RIGHT NOW or I’ll JUST DIE! WAAAAHH!

  • My husband loses 20 pounds after going on a ‘diet’.
    Old breakfast : two donuts + two Yoo-hoos + a bagel with extra cream cheese
    New breakfast: two donuts + two Yoo-hoos + a bagel with a moderate amount of cream cheese
  • I inhale my kid’s chocolate glazed donut fumes too deeply = 20 pound gain.
    All of it in my ass.
    Never in my boobs.
  • Empty bathroom = infinity # of hours
    Empty bathroom + me = suddenly everyone has to go pee simultaneously
  • The older my son gets → the cooler he seems → the more I want to hang out with him → the less he wants to have anything to do with me.
  • The increase in the amount of my son’s armpit hair = the increase in his ability to roll his eyes at everything I say

    Right back 'atcha, kid.

    Right back ‘atcha, kid.

  • # of tasks I have to do in the shortest amount of time = # of  times my kids need me to get them something every 2 seconds.
  • The more I try to get my kid’s attention → the louder my voice gets > likelihood they’ll ever respond.
  • The more secret the conversation + the more you whisper + the more curse words you use → my kids’ hearing is suddenly better than a German Shepherd’s.
  • 10 minutes = average time it takes to have sex
    1.5 seconds =average time it takes for kids to realize you’re having sex and decide to start banging on your bedroom door.

Care to add any other mysteries of your universe?

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This Mom’s Wish

9 May

Dear Kids,

This is all I want for Mother’s Day (and beyond):

  • That you realize half-eaten tuna sandwiches don’t belong in the far corner of your closet buried under three tons of toys.
  • You learn to fight less and love more.
  • Hands are not for hurting but for helping — also for helping Mom by picking up all your stuff off the floor. Here’s a tip: open your hand, pick something up, put it away.
  • R – E – S – P – E – C – T Find out what it means to me. And to anyone else you’ll meet for the rest of your life. I’ll give you a big hint: it’s probably the single most important thing, other than love, you can feel for another human being.  It will carry you throughout life and help you learn from others, shaping you into a positive force that can move mountains.  If you give it, others will return it to you.
  • Silence. Just ten minutes will do.
    OK, five is fine too.
    One minute?
  • A hug. A real one. Not the kind where you wiggle away in horror like I’m trying to pull the teeth out of your head.
  • That you help one another. Always.
  • If you ever see someone down, try to help them. If someone needs a hand, help them. If someone is struggling, help them.
  • Did I mention you should always help one another? Yeah, do that. Always.
  • That you realize what you put out there in the universe, positive or negative, will come back to you times ten. It’s the hardest lesson of all, but one worth remembering.
  • That you know love is all you need.
    And chocolate.
    I need some right now.
    Did you buy me any?

By the way, you both have already given me the above gifts.  All I ask is that you keep it up. I’m proud to be your mom.

39110_460976272872_2787705_n

Happy Mother’s Day

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Words of Wisdom from the Wee Ones

22 Mar

While grocery shopping with my six-year-old daughter, little Miss J:

Miss J: Mommy, y’know what?198481_10150183247247873_525857_n

Me: What?

J (yelling): When you drink milk, it makes your boobs big!

Me: Excuse me?

J: The more milk you drink, the bigger your boobs!

Me: What?!

J: It’s true. Gabriel told me. (Gabriel is a five year old boy in her class)

Me: Um….no. Just no.

J: Can I have some milk?

Me: No.

J: (tries to lift my shirt)

Me: What are you doing?

J: C’mon! Lemme see yours!

Me: No, stop that! (she tries to stick her head underneath my shirt, old lady buying produce glares at me)

J: Hmm…

Me: Get outta there!

J: (walks slowly away, tapping her finger to her lips) Hmm…
How much milk do you drink, Mommy?

Me: What? Why?

J: Nothing.

Me: What are you trying to say?

J: It’s just that…well…I’ve seen worse.

(still not sure if I should take that as a compliment)______________________________________

Miss J wanders into the kitchen, tears streaming down her face.

Me: What’s wrong, sweetie?483644_10151380954547873_1466432138_n

Miss J: I want a baby sister.

Me: Oh ha ha! Well, now! No…sorry, you can’t have one.

Miss J: Why? I want one!

Me: I’m afraid that’s impossible, mommy can’t have more babies.

Miss J: (looking horrified) You mean, I can only have the ONE BROTHER?

Me: Yup. Just the one brother.

Miss J: You mean to tell me….that I (pointing finger in the air with each word) am STUCK…with THIS KID…
in THIS HOUSE….for the REST OF MY LIFE?

Me: Yup. Well, until you move out, go to college or get married one day, so it won’t be for the rest of your life–

Miss J: I’m marrying Daddy.
__________________________________________________________________

My husband and I had a rare day off together and my daughter asked us what we were planning to do all day. We informed her we would be spending it having some “alone time”, like grown-ups sometimes like to do. So we dropped the kids off at school in the morning. As she was walking away into a huge crowd of kids, parents and teachers she stopped, turned around and yelled, “Have fun kissing and getting married today, guys!”

From my ten-year-old son:

CJ: I really, really, really want to go to the chorus concert tonight at school!IMG_2331

Me: You don’t sing.

CJ: So?

Me: You’re not in chorus.

CJ: I just wanna go.

Me: You hate music.

CJ: I just really wanna go, that’s all.

Me: Who is she?

CJ: Huh?

Me: What’s the girl’s name?

CJ: I don’t know.

Me: Is it Jessica?

CJ: Whatever.

Me: Matilda?

CJ: It’s Courtney! Not Matilda!

Me: Ohhhhhh. So your girlfriend’s name is Courtney!

(His sister starts dancing around him while singing, “He loves Courtney! He wants to kiss her!”)

CJ: She is NOT my girlfriend. Just a friend. But she is girl.
(pause) That’s a friend. And stop singing that mom, it’s not funny.

Me: What do you think having a girlfriend means?

CJ: Well, first you ask her to date you. Then you date for like…three weeks. But only after three weeks, can you kiss her. Then, if she doesn’t dump you, you keep dating and kissing until you’re, like, in college. Then you get your degree in engineering, buy her a house so you can give her a ring and ask her to marry you.

Me: Yup. That’s pretty much it.

CJ: So Courtney is NOT my girlfriend. I don’t want a girlfriend, like ever. Never ever.

Me: My work here is done.

What enlightening or embarrassing things have your kids said to you lately? Please, tell me, I need to feel I’m not alone.

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The Curse of Being a Mom

22 Feb

My sweet and loving ten year old son has made me many cute little drawings over the years.

But lately, I’ve noticed a very disturbing trend.

Age 5:

Kudos to him for getting my teeth and eyes just right...

(Kudos to him for getting my teeth and eyes just right…)

Age 7:

241381_10150253863747873_1317940_o

Age 10.5 (today): This is what he left taped to his bedroom door:

zip

I get this feeling he’s trying to tell me something….

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Coming Back to Life

11 Feb bbw

bbwToday, I’m excited to be a guest blogger over at Eric’s
(aka Le Clown from  A Clown on Fire) blog Black Box Warnings. It’s a safe haven where people are invited to share their personal experiences with mental and physical health.

I’ve written about a deeply personal and painful subject–my struggle with postpartum depression after the birth of my son.
When a Cold Day Dawns, the most difficult post I’ve ever written.

Thank you, Eric, for giving me this opportunity.  Bringing these buried thoughts out into the light has helped me heal even more.

Please, come on over and check it out, along with the other fantastic bloggers and posts. Thanks for reading!

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Beautiful Child

26 Jan 385673-bigthumbnail

385673-bigthumbnail

Gasping your first breath on a cold fall day,
your hazel eyes greeted my blue.
A strand of my hair locked tight in your grasp,
I let my heart bleed into yours.

We ran together through the scarlet leaves,
our dance tinged with memories of gold.

You showed me the starry night,
the seashell warmed by the sun,
the bumpy edge of a lizard’s back.

I showed you the edge of time.

Still we giggled and breathed in the wide open sky,
as it dripped into our lungs
we drowned,
wrapped in sparkling silver threads,
laden with love’s pure promise.

I dream to be rescued
but only as a brown speck
floating in the soft moss-green of your eyes,
so I may see what I’ve always known to be,
I am you and you are me.

A beautiful child.

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Things My Daughter Taught Me During School Vacation

1 Jan 483644_10151380954547873_1466432138_n

Ruminations on life, uncut and unfiltered, straight from the mind of my six year old daughter.IMG_2024

“Uh, mom? Your butt is big.”

(pause)

“Oh, I mean lovely. Yeah! Your butt is lovely!”

(pause)

“Also big.”

(scratches head)

“Actually…very big.”

___________________________________________________________

483644_10151380954547873_1466432138_n

“Well, I think peeing is dumb.

It’s just dumb and stupid and I don’t like it!

Why do we always have to stop playing to go pee all the time?

I won’t do it anymore. I won’t!”

____________________________________________________________

“Watcha doin’ Mom and Dad? Getting all snuggly?

You guys gettin’ all snuggly-wuggly and cuddly? All kissy? Kissy-poo?73150_10150090052562873_3801046_n

Well, that’s just SO GROSS!  I don’t wanna see that!EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!”

______________________________________________________

“I have a new boyfriend now,  Mommy.

His name is Gabriel and he sits next to me at the triangle table.

He’s nice but he breaks all the crayons so from now on I’m going to have to call him Gary.”

______________________________________________________

198481_10150183247247873_525857_n“I am so excited to go back to school tomorrow, because I have P.E. class!

Yeah! And I LOOOOOOOVE P.E.!

Well, actually, I hate it….we run, we jump, we do stuff. I do get SO tired.

(sighs and looks wearily off into the distance)

But I really, REALLY love the part when we get to drink water from the fountain!”

______________________________________________________

(Over the past two weeks of vacation, I also learned Little Miss J’s new favorite catchphrase.
This is her response to almost everything I do or say:)

284689_10151222955417873_2133117492_n“Seriously? Be serious!

Are you serious?

Because…

seriously?

SERIOUSLY!
______________________________________________________

And so kids, tomorrow? It’s back to school! Seriously!

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The Dude with the ‘Tude

23 Dec

d683481ca6a6199831799f7b4b19178a

If you’re a parent, you’ve heard of the Elf on the Shelf. Or as I like to refer to him–
The Brilliant Yet Creepy Spawn of Marketing Execs Gone Mad.

Until this Christmas, for years I had managed to live in complete denial this thing even existed, effectively putting blinders on every time I saw his clever little escapades plastered all over my friends’ Facebook feeds. Ooh, look! He’s in Barbie’s swimming pool hanging out with the peeps! Oh, wow! Now he’s zipping across the living room curtains wearing cute little candy canes as skis! Adorable!

The Elf’s supposed purpose? To mesmerize and enchant kids far and wide with the endless possibilities of Santa’s magic.

The Elf’s real more sinister goal? To drive every mom and dad up the fracking wall every night until Christmas.
And boy howdy! Does the jolly lil’ buggah succeed at that one!

As the story goes, (I’m not really clear on details as I rolled my eyes the entire time my son read the Elf on a Shelf book to me) the Elf runs off to see Santa every night.  If your child has been ‘good’, the Elf will return.

But here’s the kicker, he only magically comes back during the night (i.e. when moms and dads should be in a deep sleep) and inevitably ends up getting into some kind of amusing shenanigans. Usually involving things like swimming in a bathtub overflowing with flour and glitter or building a huge replica of the Eiffel Tower in the center of your kitchen floor using peanut butter and pretzels, or messing up your almost completed 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle of brown mice eating chocolate chip cookies in a sandstorm.

Oh, that Elf is a pure delight!

So I’ve decided to jump on this freaky-deaky Elf bandwagon. Because, as we all know, you can’t put a price on a child’s dreams. Or a mom’s nightmares. Just a few of my ideas:
(some may be hallucination-based due to my inability to get a good night’s rest knowing I might wake up to find him very much alive, sitting on my pillow and watching me sleep)

Steve on your sleeve

sleeve

AH! Dear lord! Get if off! GET IT OFF!

Max in the Flax

Tasty! And keeps hot flashes at bay!

Tasty! And keeps hot flashes at bay!

Phil on the Sill

Sweet dreams!MWA HA HAAA! (constant cackling ensues)

Sweet dreams!
MWA HA HAAA! (nonstop cackling ensues)

John on the John

Just try an' flush me! I double dog dare ya!

Just try an’ flush me! I double dog dare ya!

Todd on the Schrod

schrod

…and finally, after Christmas is over and you can kiss that blasted Elf goodbye until next year:

Flynn on the Gin

It's all right. I see them too.

It’s all right. I see them too.

Merry Christmas to all and to all the elves a goodbye!

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Go On, Open It

17 Dec

christmas_package

When I feel the darkness closing in, it’s hard to breathe; the crushing pain and tears threatening to break me into tiny little pieces.

Yet this rawness, this fear inexplicably opens me up, exposing my heart. I start to reach out again. I grab onto the positive, the light and hold it close. With patience and tenderness, I let it grow enough to warm my thoughts and soothe my worries. I choose to yield to its power.

I choose yes.

Will it be okay?

Yes.

Will the light always be there?

Yes.

Will love heal all?

Yes.

Yesterday, amidst a torrent of tears and sorrow, of endless doubts and fears, something told me to open the small gift under my Christmas tree. It was from my older brother, Daniel. I almost heard a voice whispering in my ear.

Go on, open it.

I raced downstairs and ripped at the silver paper.

“Oh!” I gushed, clutching the gift close to my heart.

Inside was my late father’s 1956 report card from Thomas A. Edison High School in New York.  As I unfolded the yellowed paper, I giggled in spite of my tears. He had received mostly Ds and Cs. The only classes he had high marks in? Math and photography.

Of course, these grades from so long ago mean nothing now. Mere lines on a piece of paper. They don’t begin to measure how he lived his life or the things he taught me about trusting in the goodness and kindness of helping others. These marks don’t even hint at the incredible man he was or the love he brought so many people while he was alive.

And the love he brings me even today in the face of stark fear.

I traced his name on the tattered slip of paper with my finger over and over, as if I could somehow summon his presence. I needed my dad. I needed to feel safe. I needed his love and his reassurance. I needed him to show me things would be all right again.

I flipped the report card over and underneath nestled in the wrapping paper was a DVD. It was old movie reel footage my brother had unearthed from 45 years ago, things I had never seen before. I popped it into the player and suddenly my dad was there in my living room with me again.

Within moments the grainy and silent images flickered and filled my TV screen: my dad and mom getting married,  grinning as they playfully shared their wedding cake; my dad, a young man in his late 20s,  laughing as he twirled his own mother, my late grandmother, across the dance floor; my dad, puttering around the yard on a sunny Saturday morning, joking and playing with my older brothers.

And through it all, there was my dad’s face, his blue eyes lit from within. Shining.  I remembered his laugh.  I remembered how safe I felt around him.

As I sat there on the couch, I felt his love speaking to me.

It’s going to be all right. Do not worry. Do not fear. I am here for you. I will always be here for you.

I love you.

And that’s all that matters.

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You Know You’re a Parent When….

1 Dec What? So I'll be living in your basement eating bologna sandwiches and playing Nintendo until I'm 30. You signed up for this, remember?
  1. The nurse hands you a baby and says with a sneer, “Good luck, suckers!”
  2. You get home with baby and after a few days realize–the baby isn’t going anywhere.
    Probably for the next 30 years.
    If you’re lucky.

    What? So I’ll be living in your basement eating bologna sandwiches and playing Nintendo until I’m 30. You signed up for this, remember?

  3. You never go by your own first name anymore.
    “Hi! I’m Christian’s Mom!” or “Hello! I’m Julia’s full-time domestic slave who lost her name along with her identity about 10 years ago, nice to meet you! Please, help me remember who the hell I am! For the love of God, please!”
  4. You openly discuss puke stories over lunch with friends.
    “Hey….by the way, have you ever seen puke drop from three feet high before? No? well, let me tell you it was epic. I had to hold the bucket up over my head like I was offering up a sacrifice at the fiery altar of vomit volcano hell. I didn’t even flinch. I just turned my head to the side, squeezed my eyes shut to block the spray, and he kept hurling over the side of the top bunk like nobody’s business.
    Now please pass me the guacamole.”
  5. You alternate between serene calmness and explosive fire-breathing rage with ease.
    “Please, you guys really need to start calming down now, okay? Huh? Please?
    I SAID CALM DOWN! RIGHT NOW! OR I WILL DRIVE THIS CAR INTO A TREE SO HELP ME GOD!
    ….thank you.”
  6. You get so beaten down by the constant barrage of questions, “Mom, can I have a cookie? Mom, can I have a piece of candy? Mom, can I have some chocolate milk?” that you finally snap and start screaming, “YES! YES!! FINE! GO AHEAD! YOU CAN HAVE EVERYTHING! ALL OF IT! I DON’T CARE ANYMORE! HAVE AT IT!” only to realize you’ve agreed to letting them drink beer and take the car out for a spin.
  7. You start to schedule meetings with your husband to discuss when to schedule in sex.
  8. This year’s vacation hot-spot?
    Any place you and your spouse don’t have the kids for a few minutes so you can get a tiny shred of sanity back.
    Maybe eat an entire meal uninterrupted for once.
    Listen to your own inner thoughts for a change.
    Could be simply going out for the early-bird special at the local Cracker Barrel, it’s all good.

    Whoa! What sweet bliss is this? Rockers! Everywhere! HOT DAMN!!!

  9. Your go-to emotion is feigned apathy.
    Whenever you have childless friends over for dinner, they’ll have this look of terror on their faces as your kids run around screaming and throwing things like monkeys fresh from a coke binge. And the whole time you’ll  just sit on the couch with a shell-shocked blank look on your face, completely oblivious to the chaos–their loud antics only barely registering as a distant low-buzzing hum. This is a coping mechanism that only comes from years of practice.
  10. You’ve learned society’s acceptable term for your constantly hyped-up, out-of-control kid is ‘spirited’.
    So you use it all the time now as an excuse.
    “Oh, so he dumped an entire bottle of chocolate syrup in your toilet?  He’s spirited!”
    “So you’re telling me he head-butted the gym teacher because he felt like it? Well, now! He sure is spirited!”
  11. You often interrupt important phone calls to yell:
    “Hey! You wipe your OWN butt!”
  12. On any given day you find yourself quoting the best quote ever uttered by a parent:

              “I brought you into this world, I can take you out.” –Bill Cosby

***If any of you weary and worn-down parents out there have any other insights as to when you know you’re a parent, feel free to write them in the comments below so I can laugh at you while offering up my deepest sincerest pity as only a seasoned mom can do.***

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